


Slip

by anatsuno, Cesare



Category: The Faculty RPF
Genre: Antagonism, Denial, M/M, Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-06-02
Updated: 2006-06-02
Packaged: 2017-10-13 14:44:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/138508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anatsuno/pseuds/anatsuno, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cesare/pseuds/Cesare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"RPS set during the filming of The Faculty. Josh is young and horny. Elijah is younger and hornier... and gayer. It develops that Josh starts to mess around with Elwood, but only under the condition that Elwood pretends to be Casey while they play."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slip

**Author's Note:**

  * For [absolutefiction](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=absolutefiction).



> Written for a [lotrips_fqf](http://community.livejournal.com/lotrips_fqf/profile) request by absolutefiction.

*

When Elijah comes out of wardrobe, back in his own clothes again, Josh is already done and waiting to rag on him.

"Hey, squirt."

"Hey, stork," Elijah answers, craning his neck up. Josh is tall, and while he slouches a lot in-character as Zeke, he's got pretty good posture normally. It makes it hard for Elijah to look him in the eye.

"What's your plan after we get back to the hotel?"

"Dunno. I can kick your ass at Virtua Fighter... again."

"Yeah, or I can just plain kick your ass." Josh goes to mess up Elijah's hair and just as quickly snatches his hand away. "Ew. You need to wash that gel shit out, that's nasty. Your head's like, shrink-wrapped."

Elijah ducks his head some, belatedly. "Hey, not my fault. Talk to make-up."

Kind of fascinated now, Josh messes with Elwood's hair. They've lumped so much gel in it, it's like a sticky helmet. "For real. And you know little Casey wouldn't have gel in his hair. He's getting swirlies every morning, all this gunk would get flushed."

Defiantly, Elijah frowns. "Maybe he just doesn't like gel."

"Whatever." Josh makes a flushing sound with his mouth and gives Lij a little bit of a noogie.

Elijah ducks faster this time, but grinning. "I'm not Case. Got a cig?"

Josh drops his hands and shrugs irritably. "I'm out."

"Shit. Oh well," Elijah shrugs, and smiles, pretending he doesn't notice the change in Josh's tone. Sometimes that shakes Josh out of whatever mood he's gotten into.

It seems like it works. Josh says, "We can go out for more later. How's that for a plan?"

*

After they catch their ride back to the hotel and Elijah rinses the gel out of his hair, they walk out looking for a convenience store. For some reason Josh passes up the gas station they always go to, and a liquor store that Elijah points out, and a 7-11, and insists that they keep walking. Even now that the sun's going down, it's really hot. Fucking Texas. Elijah's hair is already mostly dry just from the heat.

Josh spots another gas station, a busy one: cars pulling in and out, blaring car stereos, lots of voices speaking English and Spanish, a line for a car wash. "There," he points, and collars Elijah, who's mooning around again, chewing his nails. "Just follow me, kay?" Josh pokes him.

"I'm not gonna get _lost_ ," Elijah snorts derisively, batting too late at Josh's big hand. "The store's right there."

He stuffs his hands down his jeans' pockets. They walk past the first row of pumps, Josh striding forward so that Lij has to trot up to his level again. He wonders if Josh meant anything else, like, follow my lead. It doesn't make any sense; no aliens here. They're not undercover or anything. His polo shirt sticks to the small of his back, uncomfortably.

Josh shoulders into the store attached to the gas station. There's no bell on the door, it's too busy for that, which is just right as far as Josh is concerned.

The cigarettes are right up by the cash register, which isn't so perfect, but there's a lotto ticket machine behind the counter. Josh nudges Elijah into the candy aisle and watches the people paying for gas. It's fun, it's like he's casing the joint.

"Hey Casey," he mutters, to tip Elijah off, and shoves a chocolate bar into Elijah's hand. "Get this. And a lottery ticket."

Elijah's mouth is already open to protest-- he's not Casey, it's too hot for a chocolate bar, why a ticket-- when his brain revs up and he gets it, or, some of it anyway, enough to obey without recriminations for now. He blinks and sets off for the counter, reaching backwards for the coin purse in his back pocket.

Josh mocked it recently, the small leatherette change-holding thing apparently worthy of his hipster scorn. Girly, or whatever; Elijah tried to forget the details. His heart's beating harder.

"I'd like a lottery ticket with this, please," he asks the woman at the register. Her face is harsh, tanned and bitterly wrinkled under a mass of foamy peroxided eighties hair, but it softens when she drops her eyes to his and smiles at him.

The lady behind the counter turns to the lotto machine, and Josh leans to get a shot at the cigarettes. There's a dicey second when some trucker hat guy is coming in the door and looking right fucking at him, and Josh isn't sure he's going to have a clear shot before the cashier bitch turns around again.

Elijah glances at him and quickly says to the cashier, "Actually, can I get two? A dollar each, right?"

"Sure, honey," she says with barely a glance at him, and goes to print another. No one's looking; Josh grabs the pack, slides it out and drops it into the front pocket of his oversize cargo pants.

He moves past Elijah, reaching around him, kind of a thrill to feel little Elwood go frozen when Josh half has an arm around him in public like this. "Split it with you," Josh says, snagging the chocolate bar, and he keeps walking away while the lady rings Elijah up and takes the money Elwood fishes out of his faggoty little change purse. The kid is hopeless.

"Wait up!"

Elijah runs to catch up a second later, shielding his eyes from the sunset with the hand holding the lottery tickets. His breath comes a little short; it's really too warm for a sprint, even one as short as this.

He grins at Josh, pink blotting high on his cheeks. "Gimme my chocolate bar, punk."

"Come get it," Josh taunts, and drops it down his other cargo pocket. Though it'll probably melt in about five seconds, as hot as it is right now. Thank fuck the hotel has super cold air conditioning.

" _I_ paid for that shit," Elijah reminds him, stowing the tickets away in the breast pocket of his polo.

Josh's mouth quirks up sarcastically, something Lij noticed on set he does exceptionally, unnervingly well. To stop him from talking shit again, calling him dork or whatever, Elijah dives forward after a quick look around, fingers pushing into Josh's pocket to get at the chocolate.

"Hey!" Josh shoves Elijah by the head, which doesn't really work. Elijah just ducks and shoves practically his entire arm down Josh's cargo pocket. Hopefully if anyone sees them, they assume they're brothers, or else this must look pretty wack.

Elijah comes back up with the Hershey bar and smiles hugely, his tongue against his gappy front teeth, like a kid. Like even more of a kid than he is.

"You're such a little bitch, Casey."

That Casey thing would be bizarre if Lij stopped to think about it. He shrugs it off.

"But I get what I want." Elijah tears the wrapping and bites in enthusiastically. He winks at Josh and starts the walk back where they came without a look backwards, chewing and stepping in sync. Sometimes ignoring Josh is the best way to annoy him. Even if Lij is dying to ask why the shoplifting, or if that's a habit of Josh's. Come to think of it, the stunt has Zeke-ish feel to it...

Josh settles into a lazy stride, ignoring the fact that Elijah's ignoring him. It's obviously just an attempt to piss him off, and no way Josh is going to bite.

That does mean a five-block walk with nothing much to look at but passing cars and Elwood's ass. Elijah's a scrawny little thing and there's not much to his backside either, nothing that's going to get the Tommy Hilfiger people hot and bothered about how he looks in their jeans. Not unless they start making flat back pants to go with their flat fronts.

Not that you can really tell that much. Elijah's clothes are always kind of baggy and his Casey wardrobe is even worse, the Tommy-Hilfiger-sponsored shirts hanging off him, the jeans sagging down on his skinny hips.

The streetlights are just coming on by the time they get back, but it's still like a goddamn oven outside. Josh cranks the air up to max as soon as they get in the room.

Elijah comes to stand in front of it with his arms stretched into the cold blast. "Whoa!" His skin raises in goosebumps quickly; a weird feeling to have while his forehead and nape are still damp with sweat.

He grins at Josh over his shoulder and bounces away from the window. Josh doesn't seem to be sulking, but it's kind of a long time since he last said something. It figures that the one thing Lij found out can work on him just as often ends up backfiring. There's just no good way to win.

"Want your lottery stub?"

Josh just rolls his eyes, fishing the cloves out of his pocket. They're not his brand, and now that he has them, he doesn't even really want one. Later. He tosses them onto one of the bedside tables and watches Elijah jumping around like crazy.

"Man, you're a nervous little fucker." Elijah looks about as high-strung as Josh feels. He thought shoplifting would be enough of a kick to relieve it, but he's still restless, kicking around, wanting more.

"What?"

"Dancing around."

Elijah frowns, pulling on the hem of his shirt. "I'm not _dancing_."

It's a stupid-ass answer, and he shouldn't feel ill-at-ease either, but. Whatever.

Josh smirks. "Okay, prancing around."

"Ha, ha," Lij rolls his eyes, but it's enough to still him this time. He sinks down, sitting on the narrow couch against the far wall. He's not sulking, but close. He has to pay attention not to visibly pout; Josh would see it and that'd be the end of his dignity. Again.

Snorting, Josh sits on the coffee table opposite Lij, mirroring his sulky posture, peering at him and kicking his foot. Elijah gives him a bratty little glare. Amused, Josh reaches down and tugs Elijah's shoelaces untied.

Lij sticks his tongue out at him, knowing how silly it is.

It's hardly sillier than untying his laces though, right? Josh doesn't have any high ground to claim, not when he does stuff like that, stuff that doesn't make any sense like calling him Casey and pretending to bully him, or whatever it is he's doing. Mimicking the way Lij sits, what the fuck, like they're five.

He kicks the air between Josh's knees, defiantly.

Josh grabs his foot and wraps his hand around Elijah's ankle-- and damn, Elwood's runty; Josh's fingers almost meet. "You better not stick that tongue out unless you want me to find a use for it."

"Ooooh, I'm _scared_ ," croons Elijah, and he sticks his tongue out again and waggles it up and down ridiculously.

Yanking Elijah forward by his captive ankle, Josh gets a hand around the back of his neck and feints at biting his tongue.

Elijah blinks at the snap of his teeth, and-- shivers, maybe, or shifts somehow, owl-eyed and vulnerable, his mouth still open, color high in his cheeks, and Josh completes the motion, not just feinting this time, his teeth against Elijah's mouth, half bite, half kiss.

Lij's heart gives a second, harder jolt. His tongue flutters in the air, stupid, his hands flailing at his sides. He starts kissing back-- he starts kissing, that is, because Josh's not doing much, yet, though the feel of Elijah's mouth pursing against his seems to kick him alive again or, something, and then they're kissing for real, no other word for it, with their teeth clacking and sending impossibly loud noise in Elijah's head, their mouths mashed together, tongues all clumsy wet and slithery, kissing, they're _kissing._ Oh _yeah._

Josh tugs Elijah the rest of the way off the couch and follows him to the floor, knees on either side of him, caging him in. That'll show him. That'll teach him... something. Not to mess with Josh. Who's in charge. "Fuckin' warned you," he says. Elijah's mouth is pinker than it was; he tasted like chocolate.

Lij swallows and nods. Josh is breathing kinda hard, faster than Elijah is even. His voice is low and breathy. He looks... intense, and. Kind of belligerent? That's really fucking hot, though Lij doubts Josh would like to hear it. "Yeah," he says instead, nodding again. He was warned. In a way.

Grabbing Elijah's wrists, Josh pins them over his head. It's easy, Elijah barely even tries to resist til it's too late, and then his arms strain pointlessly while Josh holds him down. "What about now?" Josh taunts him. " _Scared_ yet?"

His heart hammering in earnest, Elijah squirms. He's scared, yeah, scared things might stop here.

Seems like the best way to keep things going is to give Josh what he expects. Lij opens his mouth, hesitates... goes for it.

"Sure."

Josh grunts, an animal sort of noise that sounds like he approves of Elijah's answer.

"Yeah," Josh murmurs, and slams his hips against Elijah's, kissing him hard again. Part of his brain is just... blanking out in a haze of _Okay, what the fuck?_ This isn't something _Josh_ would do. But it's not like it's his fault, Elijah provoked him.

Elijah's still provoking him, making a high-pitched noise of pained surprise even though he's shoving up against Josh, tensing up, kissing back, his tongue clumsy but active, tangling with Josh's.

He whines when Josh backs off, and Josh's wires are crossed because-- he made his point, he's had his little joke, ha ha, and he should be getting up now, laughing it off, because this isn't him-- right. It's not him and it's not Elijah, and suddenly it's fine to push closer in answer to that whine. "Aw, what's wrong, Casey? Just can't wait to get your ass kicked again?"

Lij gapes, cogs whirring. Seriously, what the fuck is happening, here? He searches Josh's eyes, as though that's gonna help him figure it out... but Josh is notoriously tough to read, and even now with his face closer than it's ever been, Elijah doesn't get very far. It would be dumb to spoil everything though, the dumbest thing, really.

"I-- I just," Lij tries to imagine Casey here in his place, surely this is Zeke, then, pinning him down, and Casey, he'd, what would he-- Elijah bites his lowerlip and tries to look insolent. "Depends what you mean by that."

Josh brings his free hand up and touches the backs of his fingers against Elijah's cheek, Zeke-style. "Guess," he suggests, tapping with a forefinger, and slowly, deliberately trails his touch down the front of Elijah's shirt, down to the no-longer-flat-front fly of his pants. He pops the first button and watches, daring him with a look.

Sucking in air, Elijah arches against the touch, trying to spread his thighs in a helpful, prompting manner.

"No, then," he murmurs, smiling at Josh briefly. "I can't wait." Maybe Casey would quip something more clever, but hey. No one's here to write Elijah's lines.

"Such a little bitch, Casey." Josh tears and twists at Elijah's buttons, and if he feels him up a lot in the process, well. It's not like it's really _Josh_ doing this. "No wonder you're always getting fucked over," he spits the word out, liking the strong and dirty feel of it in his mouth, hard and percussive, one sound, _fuckt_.

"I don't always mind," Lij tells him, privately certain Case would _kick his ass_ for that admission if he could, "getting fucked over." He leaves a pause between the last two words, time stretching long enough to morph the silence into sexual innuendo while he pulls on his wrists and bucks his hips up. His hard-on's burning up, the tension kind of unreal, the suspense and the shock of this stretching his senses. Josh's mouth is hard when Elijah lifts his head and kisses it, hard and hot.

Josh breaks away from the kiss and mutters, "I bet, I fucking bet," reaching for his own waistband, not bothering with the zipper, just shoving down hard and wriggling out of his pants. They're not his pants, he never even wore cargo pants til this shoot, all the clothes came free, not just wardrobe but everything. It can't be him doing this when he's wearing Zeke clothes, when it's Casey arching under him, the sarcastic, heroic little shit Zeke's going to end up running away with at the end of the script.

Zeke or not, it just about fries his circuits when he smashes his hips down again, _bare_ , skin on skin, both of them hard as _fuck_ and sawing against each other, like two sticks rubbing to make a spark. There's a dab of wet at the tip of each and he almost loses it when it spreads and all at once the head of his cock is sliding easy against Casey's flat stomach, and it feels crazy, shooting electricity straight into him, filling him up with power.

"You ever do this?" he pants, because somehow it has to be even more, "huh, Case? Lay down and spread for it? Suck cock to keep from getting beat up?"

Elijah _growls_ and wrenches one hand free of Josh's grip, and though he's half out of his mind he knows it's not just his sense of outrage this time, it's him and Casey both, maybe even for different reasons. He grabs at Josh's face, trying to snag and pull him closer, succeeding, biting his filthy fucking mouth.

"Don't you-- I never-- geez," he tries a more articulate objection but the friction is so good now, so heavenly wetslickhot, he can't really make a fucking speech, okay, that's just too hard, there's not enough oxygen for that. His fingers scrabble in Josh's hair and twist, pulling a little to make his point.

Casey pulls hair and bites back like the dirty little fighter he is, and Zeke laughs, pumping against him harder til Casey gasps. Even fucking him couldn't feel better than this, it _feels_ like fucking, feels like he's hammering into Casey's body with every thrust into the tight space between Casey's body and his own.

Josh pushes and rocks and flattens him into the carpet, his broad-chested shape curved and plowing forward like a steamroller. His chuckles echo in Lij's ears and make his stomach flip; his mouth hovers close to Elijah's face, warm breath gusting across his cheek. It's too much to last, too intimate, and better worse stronger again when Josh grazes Lij's upper lip with his teeth, tightening the handhold around his wrist til it hurts-- Elijah comes with a heave of his entire body, choking on nothing but his own tongue and the surprise of it all.

Abruptly it's even hotter and slicker between them and Zeke fumbles, thrown off his rhythm, amazed at the way Elijah's face, _Casey's_ face contorts and then relaxes, his chin tipping back. His come feels like it's everywhere, the room smells thick with sex-- Zeke lunges and drives his whole weight down onto Casey, fucking against him frantically, blowing over the edge, his muscles clenching hard, everything just for a second really exactly perfect.

"Whoa," Elijah says, a little bit of a whisper before he clears his throat. "Dude." Josh feels heavier now, heavier and less angular, slumping some. It's less annoying than it should be, his weight sort of reassuring. Warm, too, and that's not a luxury; the room's temperature beyond their tangle of limbs feels like it's dropped a hundred degrees, thanks to Josh's crazy thermostat wheeling.

"Shut up," Josh tells him. It's harder to keep it fixed in his head that this isn't him, now. It feels like it's him, feels like it's his body that's slimed with come and cold in the icy blast of the A/C. Casey's the only warmth in the room, but he's not Casey any more. Casey's from Ohio, he wouldn't say "dude", that's Elijah.

Josh heaves himself up and grabs a box of tissues from beside the bed, wiping at the jism. It's glommy and gross and he rips up a handful of tissues getting it off.

"Here," he tosses the box to Elijah.

"Thanks."

Lij shivers from the temperature change, fresh goosebumps rising on his forearms. He cleans himself up, still a little dazed, watching Josh from the corner of his eye.

His face is all closed up, the corners of his mouth quirking down unhappily. His movements all have this edge of impatience that Elijah's learned to recognize as a sign of bad mood. Elijah balls the tissues and easily dunks them in the metal wastebasket near the small desk, failing to hold back a " _Score!_ " that makes him wince as soon as it's out.

Before he can even get up from where he's sitting on the floor, Josh brusquely strides past him to the bathroom, slamming the door closed behind him.

When Josh comes out twenty minutes later, the A/C's been turned down to medium and the room smells like smoke.

Elijah looks up at him, a half-smoked butt between his fingers. His hair's sticking up and his blue eyes are big behind his glasses.

Nerdy as hell, yeah, but he's definitely Elwood, no Casey in sight. "I figured I could have one, since I helped."

"Sure, squirt," Josh says easily, snagging the pack and sitting on his bed. He lights up a cigarette and inhales, relaxing, and feels like himself again.


End file.
